Incapability of expression
by mixthealphabet
Summary: Tim has a lot of fears, a lot of little things he struggles with until they just can't stay buried within him. This is just one of those things.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the batfamily.**

**Incapability of expression** by larissa

Based on this headcanon from incogneat-oh: One of Tim's biggest fears, one that he barely acknowledges even in his heart of hearts, is that Alfred only sticks around because he's an employee. Only pretends to care because it's his job. He is desperately afraid that he'll wake up one day to Alfred leaving for good, _without even looking back_.

* * *

"I got to tell you that he waited all his life  
For someone like you to come make the wrong things right  
I know he didn't have the answers all the time"

* * *

**He's not afraid.** Seriously, he's not. He's just… Worried. Yes, that's it. It's normal to worry about his loved ones.

Tim winced. This wasn't getting him anywhere.

The boy fingered the seam of his t-shirt, eyes unfocused and brows furrowed as he tried to analyze how he felt about this whole ordeal.

It wasn't like he didn't have a choice. He could always just tell his friends that there was some sort of meeting on Wayne Enterprises, making him unable to attend the festival. They would understand – they always understood, didn't they? – because it was just one of those things that came with knowing the son – adopted son, he reminded himself – of one of the biggest businessman in Gotham. Sam would whine and Donovan would make her calm down, and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine, except for the fact that Tim was worried – not afraid, he was not afraid.

He was being stupid, of course, or that's what Bruce or Dick, maybe even Jason, would tell him if he ever shared his wanderings with the others. There were few things that were regular and constant in their lives, even fewer that weren't prone to suspicion. This, though, was one of the things they just accepted as obvious and moved on.

Because becoming a bat meant being family, and that meant having Bruce's silent love, Dick's cheerful hugs, Jason's snarky remarks and Damian's not-so-real insults. But, most of all, being family meant having Alfred care for them in his composed but oh-so-sincere way.

And, yet, here he was, frowning in concentration as he tried to shake his concerns away.

Tim often thought himself pathetic.

Jason and Damian would probably agree with him.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustration build up as time passed by.

He wasn't even sure what he was doing. Trying to get some courage, maybe? It felt too ridiculous to even think about. Alfred had been there for him on more situations than he could count, he had helped him through grief, pain, had even been there on those moments no one else was. Still, it was hard to just accept his love; he had been abandoned too many times already.

So, yes, maybe he was afraid that Alfred didn't actually love him, that the man only pretended to care for him because it was his job as their butler, and that there could come a time when the man just thought too much was too much and decided to disappear into the night to never come back.

It didn't even need to be something as radical as that, actually, as you may have guessed by the state this damned festival had put Tim on.

The Family Festival.

Stupid name, College related, the festivity was just a way for the rich and famous students of their elite university to bring their relatives to campus and create a grand mix of actors, geniuses and general rich men and women, so that one of them would maybe come up with the idea that _oh, this is where the child I barely see spends most of their time, maybe I should put some money into it and buy their affection some more_.

Despite all its hidden meanings and stupidities, Tim had entertained the idea of getting at least one of his family members to accompany him and to spend a day – a whole day! – with them, showing his campus and his favorite places, and laughing about how he still managed to spend more time with them in Gotham than actually in college. Yet, as soon as the idea came, the one person he could think of asking was the one person he was the most afraid to invite.

Because, let's see it his way, he _did_ know Bruce loved him. It just came with his warm, prideful gazes and his rare smiles. And the others… Well, the others were his brothers. They could be allies or enemies, could fight, ignore each other and almost kill each other many times in a roll, but they were siblings above it all. And, then, there was Alfred, who was always so calm, with eyes of steel and his quiet amusement. The man wasn't bonded to them in the way they were to him, no secret identities, no shadowy past.

What was really holding him to them if he ever chose to leave?

"Are you feeling well, Master Timothy?"

The voice startled him out of his thoughts and Tim opened his eyes abruptly to find Alfred had entered the room and was staring down at him from the threshold. He blinked a few times, feeling a bit of panic well up in his chest, but maintained his expression clear from any disturbances.

"I could prepare something if that was your wish. If I may say so, you look quite a bit pale." The butler continued, a light smile appearing in his face as the man approached the armchair where Tim had been for the past hour.

The boy shook his head, forcing a grateful smile.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I…" He stuttered. "I was just lost in thought." He paused. "I have a request to make, a proposition actually, to you." The way the words left him was clumsy, as if he was stumbling over them. Alfred seemed to have noticed (How could he not?) because he frowned a bit, tilting his head to the side.

It was unusual to find Tim Drake in such a manner, for the boy, in spite of his insecurities and manias, was usually very good at keeping a collected front, something, Alfred sometimes wondered, he might have gotten from the time spent with the butler himself.

The boy wasn't impervious to fear, much the contrary. Tim was probably one of the most human amongst them all, for he felt it all, processed the dangers and the tragedy and the risks much more than joyful Dick or reckless Jason.

He felt too much, though, and he kept it all to himself.

However, with some exceptions to Bruce, Alfred had never vocalized his worries.

"I'm sure that, if it's something I can be of assistance with, there will be no hazard in my acceptance of such." The man replied, instead, bowing his head.

Tim had to stop himself from drawing a deep breath as it came to the hardest part of it all; the moment in which he could be refused, once and for all, dramatic as it may seem.

The boy straightened his back, still fingering the hem of his blue t-shirt, as if he tried to disperse his anxiety in the shifts of his body. Needless to say it wasn't working very well.

"There will be this Festival the University is throwing, I'm not sure what the attractions may be, but everybody has been very excited for it. They told us to invite members of our family, and Bruce has already said he will be there if I don't mind Damian, because he can't leave the brat alone, and Dick will be out of town, and Jason isn't really that kind of guy. And, to be truthful, I'm not sure I want him around my colleagues (especially since we don't actually know if he has thrown away all of his guns)." He smirked softly, a bit of humor itching into his expression. "I know it will be your weekend off, you probably already have plans anyway, but it's a family festival, so I thought…" He groaned. "I don't know what I thought, forget I said anything."

But there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder and Tim looked up to find Alfred's usually steel-like eyes gazing down at him with warmth deserving of Dick. It took him by surprise, in a good way, as he saw the man chuckle quietly, before finally answering.

"I hope I have not misinterpreted your words, Master Timothy, but, in case your intention was to extend this invitation for me, I will accept it."

Tim blinked once before nodding. This seemed to be enough of a response for Alfred, because he withdrew his hand, bowing his head once more, and turned to leave. Before doing so, the butler stopped and looked over his shoulder to where Tim remained silent.

"Risking sounding importune, I have to express the fondness I have of you all, Master Timothy, for I do see you all as my family, even if my actions might hide such feelings." The man chuckled one more time, eyes unfocused as he seemed to lose himself in some remembrance. "This incapability of truthful expression seems to run in the family."

* * *

Oh, look, I broke my feelings. Anyway, hope this is okay. It was based on a headcanon I read at incogneat-oh's tumblr. That tumblr is freaking fantastic, if anyone is interested. The song up there is Twentythree by Yellowcard.


End file.
